A shrill scream pierced through Iona’s eardrum, yanking her abruptly from the depths of a deep slumber. Stifling a groan, she fought to recall the events of the night before. Everything after the tattoo shop blurred into a haze, a swirling mix of colors and sounds that made her stomach flip uncomfortably.
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The cacophony assaulted her senses first: the high-pitched wail of a baby, cutting through the air like a knife, mingled with an obnoxious, bubbly children’s song that played on the television. Next came touch; she became acutely aware of a sticky substance clinging to her hand and the warmth of flesh pressed against her thighs.
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Iona cracked open one eye, the bright morning light flooding the room, and squinted at her surroundings. She was sprawled on a couch, or rather, half of it. A throw blanket, which smelled of vanilla and baby wipes, was tangled around her legs. At the same time, Marley, her best friend, occupied the other half, looking just as disheveled. The TV blared a vibrant cartoon, its colors flickering like a chaotic dream, while the baby’s piercing cries cut through the chaos like a siren demanding attention.
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Then, a voice called out from down the hall, far too chipper for this early hour, the words spiraling into the room like a cheerful intrusion. “Marley, I swear if you threw up in my laundry room again, I swear to God—”
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Iona groaned, propping herself up on her elbows and clutching her throbbing head as if she could physically contain the noise within. Marley stirred beside her, hair matted and mascara smeared down her cheek like a battlefield survivor. “Where the hell are we?” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
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“Lena’s,” Iona whispered, her gaze drifting toward a framed family photo on the wall, showcasing a smiling couple with their children, blissfully unaware of her current misery. “I think?”
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“Right.” Marley grimaced as a toddler, armed with a foam sword and dressed in a pirate costume, zoomed past them, yelling, “Pirate power!” The exuberance was jarring, and Iona couldn’t help but chuckle despite her headache.
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Lena entered the living room like a whirlwind, balancing a baby on her hip, a toddler clinging to her leg like a small, fearless koala, and a steaming mug of coffee in the other hand, embodying the essence of a domestic goddess-warrior hybrid. Her hair was tied back in a loose bun, and her eyes sparkled with a mix of exhaustion and amusement.
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“You’re alive,” she said, raising an eyebrow as if assessing her friends. “I was starting to take bets with Ross.”
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Iona blinked at her, still trying to piece together the night’s events. “How did we get here?” she murmured, disbelief lacing her voice.
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“You showed up at my door at 2 a.m., stinking of tequila, waving your arms like marionette dolls, and demanding ‘a soft place to die,’” Lena replied, a teasing smile curling on her lips.
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Marley snorted, a playful smile breaking through her disorientation. “That does sound like us.”
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Without ceremony, Lena handed Iona a mug filled with steaming coffee—its bitter fragrance cutting through the remnants of her hangover. “Drink. Marley, your cup of coffee is in the kitchen. I assume you’re going to need it.”
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The baby gurgled and smacked a tiny fist against Lena’s shoulder, their interaction effortlessly charming. Iona watched, mesmerized by the tender, chaotic scene and the warmth it radiated, momentarily distracting her from the throbbing in her temples. Marley struggled to extricate herself from Iona’s legs, a look of exasperation crossing her features.
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“How do you... do all this?” Iona asked Lena softly once Marley had stumbled off, her voice barely a whisper among the din of chaos.
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A few years earlier, Iona had allowed herself to dream of a future filled with children and a cozy home, but that now felt like a distant fantasy. It was a miracle to even garner Trent’s attention, let alone sustain it long enough to build the life she had once envisioned.
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Lena shrugged, her brow furrowing as she contemplated her response. “You just figure it out. You love someone, and you adapt,” she said, her words imbued with a raw sincerity.
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Those words ignited something deep within Iona, a tingling sensation in her chest that she didn’t quite comprehend. She loved Trent; that was true, but no matter how much she adapted, something always felt amiss. In the past, she had craved companionship, but now, with Trent… well, now she struggled to feel like herself again. Yes, the tattoo she had gotten last night was a step toward reclaiming her identity. Still, the question loomed: would she find the courage to continue this journey of self-discovery?
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As if summoned by her thoughts, the toddler let out another shriek before darting across the room, brandishing the foam sword with wild abandon. Iona couldn’t help but flinch as excitement and chaos erupted in her surroundings, a reaction that did not go unnoticed by Lena’s observant gaze.
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“I’m sorry about the noise,” Lena offered gently, her tone softening. “Marley knows the kids rule this house. I’m not sure why she thought it was a good idea to bring you here after it’s been so long.”
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Marley reappeared from around the corner, her movements resembling those of a zombie. “According to my therapist, I come here because it’s safe,” she announced, her tone deadpan.
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Iona smiled softly, the corners of her mouth lifting, “I don’t mind, Lena. I’ve missed enough of these kids’ lives. So what if I’m a little hungover and feel like my brain might burst from my skull? Look how adorable that little smile is!”
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Her gaze drifted back to the baby, who, now grinning and drooling in her direction, seemed to radiate pure joy. In that moment, amidst the chaos, all the weight of her worries faded, and she found solace in the presence of her friends and their children. It felt incredible to reconnect, to witness how one of her closest friends had blossomed into such a loving mother.
****
Later, Ross emerged from the depths of their home—his presence commanding yet warm—as he told Lena to take an afternoon break with Marley and Iona. Despite his confidence in handling the children, Lena’s relief was palpable as she glorified her exit, a radiant smile on her face. If Iona had been anyone else, she might have felt a twinge of jealousy during the journey. Still, instead, all she felt was genuine happiness for her friend.
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After a leisurely lunch and a lingering second cup of coffee that sparked warmth through her veins, the three of them ambled through the local artisan market that had sprung up near the town square. The sun beamed brightly, casting a warm glow over the vibrant scene as they navigated through handmade candles, the intoxicating scent of lavender and patchouli filling the air, tarot readers beckoning passersby with promises of insight, and local musicians strumming melodies under colorful umbrellas. Laughter mingled with the soft notes of a guitar. For the first time in what felt like ages, Iona let herself revel in the happiness that surrounded her.
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Iona stood there for a moment, heart still racing and a grin plastered across her face, as the roar of the motorcycle faded into the distance. The sun was low in the sky, casting golden hues over the street, illuminating the joy that radiated from her.
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After a leisurely lunch and a lingering second cup of coffee that sparked warmth through her veins, the three of them ambled through the local artisan market that had sprung up near the town square. The sun beamed brightly, casting a warm glow over the vibrant scene as they navigated through handmade candles, the intoxicating scent of lavender and patchouli filling the air, tarot readers beckoning passersby with promises of insight, and local musicians strumming melodies under colorful umbrellas. Laughter mingled with the soft notes of a guitar. For the first time in what felt like ages, Iona let herself revel in the happiness that surrounded her.
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As they meandered, a roar pierced the serenity, pulling her attention away from the stalls. A striking motorcycle thundered to a stop nearby, its shiny chrome glinting in the sunlight. Iona watched, captivated, as the rider removed their helmet, shaking out a mane of wild hair. There was an undeniable edge of adventure about him. Briefly, as their eyes met, she felt a spark of electricity in the air.
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“Want to take a ride?” she called, flashing a grin that sent a thrill running up her spine. Without a second thought, Iona found herself nodding, her friends exchanging amused glances. She could hardly believe her own spontaneity. Climbing onto the bike behind the rider, Iona wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling the powerful engine rumble beneath them.
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As they tore through the town, the wind whipped through her hair, bringing an exhilarating rush of freedom. The familiar streets transformed into a blur of colors and shapes as they sped past open fields, the laughter of her friends fading behind her. For the first time in ages, Iona felt alive, her worries left behind as she and her friends embraced the thrill of the open road.
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Iona stood there for a moment, heart still racing and a grin plastered across her face, as the roar of the motorcycle faded into the distance. The sun was low in the sky, casting golden hues over the street, illuminating the joy that radiated from her.
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Lena’s voice echoed over from the phone call, and Marley’s attention instantly diverted to her friend. “I’m telling you, these bracelets are perfect for the summer! Oh, Ross, did I…? Hold on, I think Iona’s just had a life-changing experience.”
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Giggling, Iona shook her head as she watched Marley animatedly speak with her. Her thoughts drifted back to the rider, that confident smile, the way she had radiated freedom like an open road. There was something magnetic about her that tugged at something deep inside Iona—a spark of spontaneity she hadn’t felt in ages.
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With a deep breath, Iona stepped back from the edge of the street, feeling emboldened. The ache in her shoulder was still there, a gentle reminder of the new tattoo that marked a milestone in her life. Still, it no longer felt like just an irritation. It was a part of her, a piece of the story she was rewriting—a testament to her willingness to embrace herself fully, scars and all.
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As Marley chatted away, Iona pretended to browse the nearby stalls, her mind racing with thoughts of what had just transpired. The promise of summer hung in the air like sweet perfume, mixing with the scent of fresh funnel cakes wafting from a nearby food truck. The fair felt alive, and so did she; it was as if the entire evening pulsed with possibilities, inviting her to let go of her reservations.
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“What’s next on your list?” Marley asked, shifting her weight as she finally turned back to Iona, their arms brushing as they stood side by side.
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Iona looked back toward the street, but the motorcycle had vanished, having melted into the city’s rhythm. An urge to chase it down and find that woman again bubbled just beneath the surface. Instead, she turned her attention to her friends, feeling lighter than ever. “Maybe some cotton candy? Or a game we can win some prizes at?”
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“Now you’re talking!” Marley exclaimed, and with that, the three of them wandered deeper into the carnival atmosphere. Laughter and music drowned out her lingering thoughts. For the first time in a long while, Iona let the world spin around her, embracing the spontaneity of life just as it was.
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As the vibrant lights of the fair twinkled above, she couldn’t help but think of the rider—her unexpected encounter making her heart race in a way that transcended the thrill of the motorcycle. Iona felt her spirit awaken, whispering of adventures yet to come, and she was ready to seize them all. The night was young, and so was she.
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